Jin exhaled slowly, letting the morning air clear away the last remnants of distraction. His body was ready: firm and aligned, every muscle vibrating with suppressed tension. The pill’s protection still lingered like a soft, almost imperceptible layer wrapping his organs and supporting him from within, prepared to cushion the worst of the punishment to come.

  He assumed the initial stance of the Jade Dragon Body and allowed Qi to circulate through the main meridians until it gathered within his dantian. A warm pulse answered in the pit of his abdomen.

  Then, as if a switch had flipped in his mind, the sequence began. His movements flowed one into the next—twists, extensions, deep and controlled breaths—each transition an attempt to mirror the elegance of a dragon gliding through the clouds, even if traces of human clumsiness still lingered.

  Finally, the crucial part arrived.

  Jin clenched his fist and guided the Qi into it, compressing the energy into a dense, forceful sphere far more stable than it had been a month ago. The inner glow intensified as he slowly raised his arm.

  Here we go again… he thought, a faint thread of nervousness running beneath the words.

  He struck the first point.

  The impact surged through him like a searing wave. The muscle trembled, shuddered… and then absorbed the Qi like parched soil drinking rain. The pain was brutal—sharp and tearing—but he didn’t feel the dangerous fragility from before. There were no signs of internal tearing, no meridians on the brink of collapse. The pill’s cushioning held his organs and inner channels in a protective embrace, allowing him to endure the assault.

  He struck the second point.

  Then the third.

  One after another, each blow made his body resonate like metal struck against an anvil.

  His bones felt denser, heavier, harder.

  His muscles, bathed in compressed Qi, gained a strange elasticity, as if resistance and flexibility were being tempered at the same time.

  His organs pulsed beneath that scorching current, adapting and strengthening while enduring a strain that would have been lethal without the pill’s protection.

  The technique did little for his meridians; those channels remained unchanged. But the rest… the rest was being forged.

  Each strike tore a stifled groan from his throat. Every breath was a battle, every movement a declaration that he would neither yield nor retreat.

  When the cycle finally ended, Jin was left gasping for air, sweat running down his body as though he had fought an entire war alone. The pain still burned through every fiber, but it was a pain he could bear—a pain that meant progress.

  And for the first time since he had begun practicing this technique… he felt something different.

  A deep, almost imperceptible tremor, as though his body—his true cultivator’s body—responded to the punishment with something more than simple endurance.

  Jin let himself fall backward onto the damp grass, completely spent. The blue sky wavered above him as his chest rose and fell violently, every breath a small stab reminding him of the torment he had inflicted upon his own body.

  The dull echo of the final impact still vibrated within his bones.

  Gods… it’s… too much… he thought, his face twisting with exhaustion and lingering pain.

  His entire body burned as though it had been hammered from the inside out. Even though the pills had protected him from true damage, the torment itself hadn’t lessened at all; it felt as if his muscles were strips of red-hot iron being forced into shape.

  With this level of pain… there’s no way to practice every day…

  He moved his arm away from his face just to breathe properly. Sweat slid down his temples while the cool breeze brushed against his overheated skin.

  Every three days… that’s the most I can endure without losing my mind.

  He tried moving a finger, then another, only to feel his tendons protest.

  Tempering muscles, hardening bones and organs… it sounded so simple when written in a manual. Reality was a very different beast.

  And even so… I feel nothing.

  Frustration slipped through him like a weary sigh.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Not a single sign of the technique’s famous first minor achievement. Not the slightest hint of the progress described in the introduction. Nothing.

  Just pain.

  Pain—and perhaps a body that was slightly more resilient. Maybe. It was hard to tell.

  My Qi cultivation goes well… but for the body… am I mediocre? Or is this technique simply a hell designed for monsters?

  He stared at the sky where a lone cloud drifted lazily across the blue. He wanted to laugh but managed only a dry exhale.

  Whatever it is… if I want to become someone strong, I can’t quit.

  He closed his eyes.

  For a moment there was nothing but the sound of his own ragged breathing slowly settling.

  The pain remained. The uncertainty remained as well.

  The sky above him felt vast and indifferent, and in that quiet something inside him tightened as a sudden thought surfaced.

  Wei Han… Lian Er…

  A tired nostalgia slipped into his mind, one he didn’t really want to acknowledge.

  Since the elders had taken them away, he hadn’t seen either of them. A full month had passed.

  He could imagine what Wei Han was doing—probably somewhere being… himself, shining unintentionally and stumbling over his natural talent.

  And Lian Er… that little lotus flower… she was surely complaining about something.

  I hope they’re okay, he murmured inwardly.

  He remained there a few seconds longer, staring up at the sky until an involuntary tremor reminded him that lying there wouldn’t fix anything.

  With a groan worthy of an old man, he forced himself upright. Every muscle protested. His back burned and his legs felt like cracked stone pillars.

  Even so, he took a step.

  Then another.

  The gentle murmur of water guided him toward the lake. When he reached the shore, he released a sigh of almost reverent relief.

  Without another thought, he let himself fall into the cold water.

  The impact felt like nature itself embracing him. The pain dulled immediately, transforming into a warm tingling that ran from the nape of his neck down to his heels. He closed his eyes and allowed the lake to carry away the sharpest stings, wrapping him in peaceful silence.

  This… definitely helps, he thought as he submerged half his face while a soft ripple brushed past his shoulders.

  Jin eventually emerged from the water, feeling the tension in his body loosening little by little. The chill of the lake had soothed the burning in his muscles and bones, leaving behind only a dull ache beneath the skin. He walked to the shore while the morning sun bathed him in a gentle glow. The robe he had left spread atop a rock was already completely dry.

  He dressed slowly—not from laziness, but from caution—and tied the sash around his waist with a tired sigh. His body still protested, a mixture of stiffness and smoldering heat reminding him of every strike, every stance, every tiny advance earned through pain.

  Even so, a strange calm settled within him.

  He looked at the lake one last time. Over the past month that small mirror of water had become his refuge, a hidden corner where he could breathe away from the sect’s noise. Now, after his exhausting training, it felt more precious than ever.

  He walked into the forest at an unhurried pace, leaving behind the dampness of the lake and the echo of his own breathing. Leaves crunched softly beneath his feet and rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy.

  As he moved between the trees, his thoughts drifted toward the sect and the life that pulsed beyond the silent forest.

  I wonder… he mused with mild curiosity, tilting his head slightly, if any of the others who joined with me have already progressed in their cultivation.

  He remembered their faces—their nervous expressions, their fierce or forced determination—and let out a soft laugh.

  “I suppose some of them must already be bragging about their progress,” he murmured to himself.

  The path opened ahead as the forest gradually thinned, signaling the nearness of the main roads. A light breeze stirred his hair, carrying away the scent of water and leaves.

  Jin adjusted his robe once more, drew a deep breath, and continued walking, leaving behind the peace of the woods to return to the sect… and everything waiting for him there.

  He made his way along the outer sect’s main roads, his hair still slightly damp from the lake. The bright sky filtered through the treetops, yet something felt strange.

  Where was everyone?

  A whole month had passed… yet he didn’t see any of the youths who had entered alongside him. Not a familiar face, not even the voices of juniors training in the courtyards.

  As he pondered this, a loud and enthusiastic voice suddenly rang out behind him.

  “Brother Jin!”

  A boy with a naturally serious—almost intimidating—face ran toward him while raising a hand in greeting. His cheekbones were sharp, his brows strong, and even when he smiled his expression bordered on threatening.

  But his eyes told a completely different story.

  They shone with a lively, crackling energy—no hostility, just excitement.

  It was Lian Xuan.

  The boy who had scored second after Jin during Jade Peak’s entrance test.

  “Brother Jin,” Lian Xuan said as he approached in long strides. “I finally found you! Haven’t seen your shadow in weeks.”

  Jin inclined his head slightly. “I’ve been… busy.” In truth, he had spent the entire time in seclusion. “I also thought I’d see more of our group around, but I haven’t run into anyone.”

  Lian Xuan let out a nervous laugh that didn’t match his intimidating face at all.

  “That’s normal. Most of them are still struggling to stabilize their Qi gathering. I thought it would take me twice as long, but—” he puffed out his chest with quiet pride “—thanks to the deacons’ weekly lectures, I managed to reach the first level of Qi Condensation.”

  Jin blinked.

  “Weekly… lectures?” he repeated, wearing a slightly strange expression.

  Lian Xuan stared at him in confusion.

  “Well, of course. Haven’t you gone? The deacons explain breathing techniques, common mistakes when circulating Qi, basic theory… very helpful.” He lowered his voice slightly before adding, “Though only a few of us actually managed to take advantage of them.”

  Jin almost felt his soul sink into his stomach.

  Weekly… lectures?

  Ah, right.

  Those existed.

  With all the body training, wandering through the forest, and cultivating alone, he had completely forgotten about them.

  “I see,” Jin replied while trying to maintain composure. “Congratulations on your progress. Being the first among the others… that’s impressive.”

  Lian Xuan grinned, revealing a perfect row of teeth that contrasted sharply with his intimidating features.

  “Well, first…” he scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. “Except for you, of course. But no one knew anything about you. Some people even thought you had injured yourself. The elders said everyone would find their own rhythm, but still… we wondered what had become of you.”